A collection of inane rants from a self-confessed psychotic narcissist.

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If you’ve only ever lived one day in your whole life then of course you’re going to be afraid of death. If you got a job at 18 and retired at 65 then of course you’re going to want to live to 100. If you dropped out of school and flittered between meaningless jobs for ten years until you got someone pregnant and you had to stay in a job to support the family, of course you’re going to wish you had more time.

If your life never changes and you never take any risks then of course you’re going to want more than what you’ve had.

I spent two years as the salesman who works 70-hour weeks and fills his weekends with drug-fuelled rampages. I’ve spent the last three years and will spend the next year as the poor student who lives in squalor and drowns in assignments but still manages to go out and get drunk at least once a week. During my life I’ve been the devoted and loving boyfriend who would do anything for the girl he’s with and I’ve also been the jerk who tries to fuck anything that moves at the first chance he gets.

Once next year’s done, I’m going to spend at least a year as the waste-of-space hippie who’s running around the world doing fuckall that’s really constructive. By that time I’ll be 25 I’ll either extend that time or I might try something new, guess we’ll have to see.

Since the age of sixteen, the longest I’ve been single is six weeks, until now. It’s been four months and a handful of days since my last relationship ended and I made a conscious effort to stay single for a longer period of time than I normally would for two main reasons:

A. All of my friends comment on the fact that I don’t stay single for long and I’ve been told that I could just be overcommitting to relationships to soon.

B. I still have feelings for my last girlfriend and it wouldn’t be fair to any new girl for me to get heavily involved while that’s still the case.

But anyway, the point is that it’s taken some time but I think I’ve finally got it. It’s taken a long time really but I think I’ve figured out how to be on my own, how to be happy in my own company and not need someone around constantly. Maybe this’ll make me a better person or a worse person, only time will tell but I can tell you this, it definitely feels good now to be comfortable spending time on your own and to get to know who you are that little bit better.

Like this:

Sometimes I wake up and I can’t get the idea out of my head. I can’t stop wondering if I gave up and let the best thing that ever happened to me walk away without a fight. But I always come to the same conclusion, if it was the best thing that ever happened to me then why did I have to fight?

I’m not saying relationships should be easy, I know they’re not. It’s just that when you get to a point where loving someone isn’t enough any more, maybe that’s just supposed to be the end of it. I guess it’s something you’ll never really know for sure and that’s not an idea I like, uncertainty is not fun.

Regardless, It’s too late to change it back and you just have to man up and move on. It’s not easy and it’s probably never going to be, but it’s one of those things that everyone has to do at some point in their lives. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and be willing to accept your fate.

You drink to the future or drink because of the past. It all looks the same when you’re on the outside looking in.

In an attempt to distract myself from the monotony that is a dissertation, I read about a prisoner of war in Nazi Germany and this is why he amazed me so much.

He was captured and held prisoner, during which time he fell in love with the daughter of an official from a quarry labor camp. During the next five years Horace discovered a way to escape his camp and instead of using it to flee Germany and attempt to rendezvous with British forces, he used it to meet up with the official’s daughter as often as he could and continue their relationship.

After he was released and sent home they continue to talk until he discovered that she had died during childbirth with the father of the baby unknown, he never discovered if it was his.

First of all, why the fuck hasn’t this been made into a film yet?!

Second of all, love’s a powerful concept and life’s a fickle bitch. Lessons to learn.

Every guy follows the same etiquette when texting or messaging someone, it’s actually pretty bizarre. If any girls out there don’t believe me then trust me, I’ve spoken to plenty of my friends about this and they all do exactly the same.

If you’re speaking to a male friend then no kisses are necessary unless they’re one of your closest friends, at which point a single “x” becomes acceptable.
If you’re speaking to a female friend who is exactly that and nothing more, or a female who you don’t know very well then one will suffice.
Everyone knows that “xx” is like an accident, nobody ever means to put two really. It’s either a habit you’ve somehow picked up or you’ve got fat fingers and you keep pressing it twice.

Here’s where we get to the real important shit.
If you’re speaking to a female friend who you’re really close to or that you want to get jiggy with then “xxx” becomes the norm. it’s not too blatant that it could be misconstrued as “sit on my face already” but then it’s not so casual that they’d think you don’t give a fuck about them so it works for either one.

Any more than three and you’re entering some real important territory, make sure that you know she’s into you or risk having to play it off as a mistake afterward.
If a girl then decides to reply with any number of “x”s exceeding three then congratulations son, you’re about to get laid.

This might seem pathetic and stupid, because it is.
I take no responsibility for the way the world works or the fact that technology has reduced us all to children.